The Burning Pen
You Promised It Would Be Forever
by Ruth Solomon
The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
Chapter 3 ~ Protecting What's Not His Own
Hermione was taken to a room, pushed in roughly by Peter and the door slammed and locked behind her. Room? Cell was more like it. A filthy cell. The room was about ten feet by six feet, the walls made of gray stone. There was a twin-sized bed with stained sheets, a scratchy wool blanket, an absolutely disgusting loo, unflushed, and a small water stained basin set in the wall.
Hermione took her foot and grimacing, chucked the handle of the loo until she could catch it under her trainer and flushed it. The shit went down but the bowl was still smelly and disgusting. She pulled the stained sheets off the twin mattress and noticed the stains went all the way through. Gingerly she flipped the mattress over. The other side was a little better, but not by much. She caught the sheet in such a way that she could fold it over and arrange it so the unstained edges would come in contact with her body. Then she sat on the bed, listening to nothing at all.
Severus had almost left her to the deatheaters. He fully intended to. She could see it in his eyes, those cold, soulless eyes as he looked at her crumpled on the floor before the Dark Lord's throne. Her ex-husband looked at her as if she were a piece of cast-off parchment. There wasn't hate in his eyes, just total disregard as if he didn't care if she lived or died.
When the Potions Master told the Dark Lord that he didn't want her, it sort of stung. Not that she loved him anymore…she didn't. He had effectively killed that love when he told her he wished he had never married her and she made him more miserable than he had ever been in his life. And Severus Snape had been in some miserable situations. He still was actually. That Severus considered his marriage to her worse than anything else he had ever lived through had stunned and hurt Hermione beyond her ability to cope. All she could think of was getting the dark wizard out of her life and letting him return to his lesser miseries.
And tonight, he had actually called her a bitch. Even when they were fighting at their worst, he had never called her that. He called her a number of other hurtful names such as stupid, selfish, a silly chit, even frigid, but never a bitch. It must have been what he was thinking the entire time though.
Hermione had no such restraint with her language. She cursed Severus loud and long when she was angry with him, peppering him with muggle phrases and obscenities he barely understood. Her language had been far more abusive than his toward the end of their marriage. After the death of her son, things just went all downhill…her grief was horrible. Even now she felt that empty ache of a missing child. She also felt something else. Fear.
She was a muggle-born in the Dark Lord's stronghold. A prisoner. Severus was fighting for her life for whatever reasons he had. Probably pity. He might still be capable of that if nothing else. She remembered how one night they had walked past Knockturn alley, and a small weredog was howling with pain. Severus paused, then suddenly turned and sought the animal out. He found several children tormenting the poor beast. The weredog was crying in a corner with nowhere to go and the children were hitting it with blasts of heat from their wands.
"Leave that animal alone!" Severus bellowed at them.
Terrified by the pale, angry wizard, the children all scattered and the weredog slunk away. Severus watched it go, scowling, his lips pressed tightly together. He wasn't so moved by pity as to take the tortured animal in, but he would not see it tormented. Maybe that was how he viewed her. Like a broken dog that needed a break.
But there were so many wizards to fig, and that goon MacNair was huge. Hermione didn't know if her ex-husband could take him, or if he did, if he would have enough strength left to take the rest of them. If Severus didn't beat all of them, she would be given to the wizards, who she had no doubt after MacNair's raging when she bit him, would rape her repeatedly, then most likely kill her.
Percy Weasley was one of them.
Hermione's brow furrowed. Percy had always been different than the rest of his down-to-earth family. In school he was proud and ambitious, always bragging on his accomplishments and talking down to his brothers and sister. He acted as if he wanted no one to know he was a Weasley, but his red hair and family resemblance gave him away every time. He had even taken the Ministry's side when Harry tried to reveal that Voldemort was back, turning his back completely on his family. Things had never been right between them since.
During the holidays, his empty chair was a glaring testament to his abandonment. Molly Weasley would look at it wet-eyed as she served the rest of her family. This pissed George and Fred off, and after every holiday there was some uproar between them and their brother requiring the assistance of Aurors to break up. It actually figured Percy would end up a servant of the Dark Lord. He was a pureblood who thought he was better than most everyone else. Pride goeth before the fall into darkness, and the wizard had tumbled in. Now under the protection and evil influence of Voldemort, Percy was ready and willing to rape her. The lust in his eyes was just as leering and hungry as in the others.
Hermione hoped the memory of Percy's lust remained just that, a memory. The alternative was too horrible.
When Severus approached MacNair, he wasted no time. The giant wizard stared at him in a demeaning manner.
"Ready to get your ass kicked again, eh Severus? This time I'm going to make YOU swallow some teeth. Then I'm going to fuck your ex-wife until there's blood on my cock. Bet you never did that to her, did you?" MacNair sneered at the pale wizard.
"No, I prefer my blood on my hands," Severus replied, moving like lightning and hitting MacNair in the jaw with an uppercut so powerful it lifted him off his feet, the impact breaking several more teeth and knocking the wizard out cold.
Severus stood over the fallen deatheater, wishing he had his boots on so he could stomp his face, but satisfied himself with beating him mercilessly with his fists until his hands were indeed covered in blood. Voldemort stopped him. Severus listened. He had for more wizards to fight and didn't want to be hit with the curse. It would weaken him.
"Enough Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, extremely pleased. Now that was the Severus he remembered, the one who dispatched his opponents quickly with an economy of moves.
Severus stood up and gave the unconscious deatheater a hard kick in the ribs before he backed away, his pale chest heaving, and bloody hands flexing. That had been satisfying. As Peter Pettigrew struggled to drag the heavy wizard off to the side, Voldemort looked at the remaining deatheaters. None of them looked as confident as before. MacNair had done nothing to tire the Potions Master out. The Dark Lord's eyes slid toward Severus.
"Are you ready to meet your next opponent?" Voldemort asked him.
Severus wiped his hair out of his eyes, and looked toward Philoneus Travis.
"Yes my Lord," he said evenly, eyeing the short, stout wizard evenly.
Travis was built like a bulldog. He had a low center of gravity, rounded, but strong. No doubt the wizard would try to wrestle the Potions Master, because on the ground he might have the advantage. Severus couldn't let him take him down. He didn't doubt he could beat the stout deatheater, but he didn't want any major injuries in the process. Most likely, the wizard would feint, then charge him. He'd be ready. He could disable him in three moves if he got it right.
Travis walked out into the middle of the throne room. He was bare-chested and barefoot. He had breasts, and a rounded beer belly…but it was solid, not flab. Travis didn't attempt to taunt the wizard, as MacNair had. There wasn't any need for idle words. He just needed to get the wizard down and overpower him. Snape was fast, but getting him down would level the playing field.
Travis leaned, swinging his body back and forth, feinting charges at the Potions Master, who pretended to jump warily. This increased Travis' confidence…his opponent seemed anxious to stay out of his path. Travis inched closer.
Suddenly the wizard charged Severus, who stood still as if caught by surprise. At the last minute, just as Travis extended his arms to grasp the taller wizard around the waist, Severus spun with all the skill of a matador dodging a charging bull, kicking Travis in the ass as he passed, stumbling and plunging to the stone floor hard. That was one move.
Severus quickly leapt on the wizard's back, straddling him. That was move two.
The Potions Master gripped the wizard's arms by the wrists, forcing them upward, then using his strength and body weight, forced them forward, the wizard screaming as Severus dislocated both his shoulders at the same time. That was move number three.
Travis' arms fell limp and useless to the floor as he bellowed in pain. Luckily, Severus didn't feel the urge to punish this wizard as much as he had MacNair. But still he needed to learn respect, so Severus settled for a couple of brutal kicks in the ribs before he stepped away from him.
"Marvelous Severus, simple marvelous!" the Dark Lord exclaimed as Peter thoughtlessly grabbed Travis by one of his useless arms and dragged him to the side, clearing the way for the next opponent.
MacNair was just regaining consciousness, gumming his bloody mouth as his head cleared. His entire face was swollen horribly, his nose practically crushed to jelly, and his eyes mere slits surrounded by raw, red meat. He had lost a couple more teeth too. Severus had regained his respect.
"Severus, you have the hunger I coveted a year ago," Voldemort gushed at the wizard, thoroughly stoked that his servant seemed to have regained his deadly skills. "You've always been my most prized fighter. I am pleased to see you kicking ass again."
Severus bowed toward the Dark Lord.
"Thank you my Lord," he said.
The Potions Master had to admit he felt back in his element. The satisfying crunch of MacNair's jaw, and the snap of Travis' shoulders made him feel almost whole. Almost. There was still a part lacking, a hole in his soul that couldn't be filled by violence, no matter how gratifying. Severus fought back that familiar feeling of emptiness and focused on his next opponent.
The tall, thin wizard entered the ring, looking for all the world as if he were walking to the gallows. He had seen Severus' previous performance and knew he could not defeat the wizard. He was of the mind to charge him and just be taken out. It seemed the most expedient method to end this. Luscious as the witch was, she wasn't worth broken bones.
Severus saw the fear in McQuire's eyes. He would be an easy defeat. Sure enough the wizard charged at him recklessly, and Severus hit him three times in the face with a right-left-right cross combination and taking him down with a blow to his solar plexus. The wizard wasn't unconscious, but lay there…unwilling to fight any further. Severus looked down on him in disdain and stepped away from him.
"You concede, McQuire?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes leveled on the fallen wizard. He had gone down too soon without making any attempt to fight. This displeased Voldemort.
"Yes my Lord," McQuire gasped.
If the wizard thought his early concession would spare him pain, he was wrong. Voldemort leveled his wand at him and cast the Cruciatus curse on him a full three minutes, causing the wizard to shit and piss on himself as he writhed in agony, his eyes rolling up into his head with pain. When the Dark Lord released him, he continued to convulse horribly, his lips pulled away from his teeth, his tongue lashing uncontrollable as he gnashed down on it, blood streaming from his mouth. Peter dragged him away, still seizuring.
Aslund was next. He was tall, muscular and fast. He didn't think he could beat Severus, but he'd be damned if the Potions Master took him out as easily as his fellow deatheaters. He stood before Severus, his blue eyes studying him for a moment before he lunged, throwing vicious powerful kicks and blows.
Severus blocked his attack, returning blow for blow but unable to get through. Aslund caught him with a right, then left cross, staggering Severus back. He leaped on the dazed wizard and took him down, but Severus rolled him over and began pummeling him in the face, seeking to beat him so badly he'd be too disoriented to fight back. But Aslund was tough and managed to buck his hips enough to throw the Potions Master off him, and managed to get a few blows of his own in on the Potions Master's face, breaking his nose in the process before Severus wrested away and leaped to his feet.
The Potions Master grabbed his nose. His hand was filled with his own blood. He looked up at Aslund, who paled at the murderous look in his opponent's eyes before Severus threw himself on the wizard and began tearing into him, connecting with his face over and over, driving him back towards the wall, following him, his sharp knuckles turning the man's face to jelly. Aslund slumped against the wall, and Severus continued to beat him, not hearing the Dark Lord's command to stop. Suddenly pain hit him.
Voldemort held his wand on Severus for a few seconds as Aslund slid down the wall, unable to continue. The Potions Master was held up by the curse…shuddering, his teeth gnashing. Voldemort let him go after ten seconds or so. Severus had just returned to full form…the Dark Lord had no desire to break him again…not when he was back at the top of his game. And Voldemort knew why…Severus' rage had been re-ignited by the presence of the mudblood. All the painful memories had come flooding back and he released them the best way he knew how…violence. Beautiful, glorious violence.
Percy Weasley stared at the Potions Master in horror. He was not as broken as he had hoped. Percy, for all his airs of grandeur…was a coward when it came to fighting wandlessly. He did not want to fight Severus and ran toward the Dark Lord, dropping quickly on one knee, begging to be heard.
"Yes Percy?" the Dark Lord lisped, his red eyes washing over the slender red-haired wizard.
"I do not wish to fight, my Lord. I withdraw," Percy said, his voice quavering, "I cannot hope to defeat Severus, my Lord. Forgive me for not being the fighter you wish."
Voldemort looked down at the trembling young wizard speculatively. He would not avoid the pain. There were other ways of torture that were, in the Dark Lord's estimation, much more pleasant.
"Very well, Percy. I will not force you to fight Severus. Instead, you will visit me. Do you understand?" the Dark Lord said, his voice filled with expectancy.
"Yes my Lord. Thank you my Lord," Percy responded, shaking with relief.
Recovering quickly from the short blast of the curse, Severus' nostrils flared in disgust. The wizard would rather Voldemort shove his snaky cock up his ass than fight like a man. From what the Potions Master had heard about the Dark Lord's sexual preferences, Percy would have done better to take the beating.
The Dark Lord dismissed Percy then looked at Severus.
"You have made an excellent showing, Severus. I am most pleased. Most pleased. Your ex-wife is currently yours."
Severus noted the Dark Lord's use of "currently". Hermione was still in danger.
"The mudblood will remain with us, Severus. I know you are estranged from her, and have no desire to resume a 'personal' relationship. However, she will remain here simply because I know if you were to take her from my domain, you would release her back to her life, and continue to pine. That will not happen. It seems she is the key to your aggression. I haven't yet decided what role she will play while she is with us…or if she will continue to live…but for the time being, Severus, she is within your care. You are responsible for her."
"Yes my Lord," he intoned.
"If the witch acts out of order, Severus, she will be subject to the same tortures as anyone else in my realm. Including the scourge. Tell her to be obedient or there will be repercussions."
"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied. "I suppose I should go inform her that she is safe, for now."
The Dark Lord studied him.
"If you wish," the Dark Lord said. Then he added, "Severus, keep this in mind. Although she is your responsibility, she is within my domain and subject to my will like any other. She may be required to perform 'other' duties. I just wanted to make you aware of that."
Severus looked up at Voldemort. He had expected that much. Hermione might find herself having to pleasure the Dark Lord, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If she had remained married to him, she could have avoided this. Their bond had offered her a protection. Voldemort rarely fucked witches that were legally married to his deatheaters himself. It was a quirk of his, though he enjoyed witnessing the defilement of the sacrament of marriage at his revels…where deatheaters fucked each other with impunity.
"I understand, my Lord," Severus replied.
Voldemort eyed him.
"I hope Severus, that this return to manhood in my arena signals a return to manhood in other areas. That witch needs a lesson. She has mistreated you in the eyes of the wizarding public and your peers. You must regain your respect. You must make her pay," Voldemort said to the Potions Master.
"My Lord, I mean no disrespect. Give me leave to be candid," Severus requested.
"It was only momentary weakness that made me deliver Hermione from my brothers tonight. If I made her perform some sexual act as my reward, she would think I still want her. I'd rather not go through that, my Lord. As I said, I would rather masturbate than touch her again, even though I have fought for her. And as much as she deserves it, I cannot bring myself to beat her."
Voldemort nodded, though he wished the Potions Master showed more callousness than he did toward the witch. The mudblood deserved a beating. She had divorced him and was insolent. She was a woman that needed to be broken. Perhaps he would take her punishment upon himself at a future time.
The Dark Lord looked at the pale, wizard before him.
"I understand Severus. Yet, until I decide what to do with her…she is under your protection. Whether or not you decide to extend that protection is up to you. Once my deatheaters find out there is a female mudblood in our midst…they will want her. I leave it up to you whether or not they will have her."
"Yes my Lord," Severus responded. Voldemort looked at him appraisingly.
"You have not yet partaken of either our available females here or the Revels," the Dark Lord said, "You may not want your ex-wife but surely you must feel the need to plunge yourself in a soft, wet orifice. You are divorced, not dead Severus. There are many among our witches who would be honored to fuck you, particularly since your abilities have been restored. You should think about it. It would be most pleasurable after such a long, self-imposed dry spell."
"Yes my Lord," Severus responded.
Yes, there were female deatheaters available…but Severus wasn't interested in fucking them. Hermione had ruined him. Severus had become used to connection during sex. So much more had been involved in the act then just ramming his cock into Hermione. Though he was often rough and dominating with the witch, he had loved her. It made all the difference at that time. Sex without connection was an empty act, and would only serve to make the hole Hermione used to occupy in his heart, larger.
Severus scowled. He hated thinking about any of this. He bowed to Voldemort.
"May I dress and take care of this, my Lord? I need to return to Hogwarts. I have classes in the morning," Severus said to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort flicked a long, thin finger at him.
"You may go, Severus," he replied.
"Thank you my Lord," Severus said, turning and walking back over to the bench.
The Potions Master donned his robes and put on his socks and boots. He then walked to the door Peter and Hermione had gone through, opened it and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Hermione had sat in the foul little room for over an hour, her stomach tight when the doorknob jiggled and turned. She looked around for something to defend herself with, but there was nothing. She stood up, pulled up the mattress and climbed into the bed, standing up in the corner with the mattress held protectively in front of her. It only 'protected' her up to her waist, as it was lengthwise. Maybe she could push the mattress over on whoever came in, trapping them beneath it and scramble over it. But where would she go?
She instantly tried to apparate the moment she was thrown on the floor in front of Severus and Voldemort, but nothing happened. Apparently only those with the Mark could apparate in Voldemort's domain. The knob turned and the door swung open.
Severus entered, closing the door behind him. He looked at the witch standing on the bed with the mattress in front of her. The wizard looked awful. His nose was swollen and obviously broken, and dried blood flaked on his pale skin. His face was badly bruised and his hands had dried blood all over them as well.
"You think that will protect you?" he spat at her.
Hermione continued to stand there, looking at her ex-husband's ruined face. He had taken that for her, despite the fact she was no longer his wife or under his protection.
"You silly chit. Get down from there. If the deatheaters want to come for you, a mattress isn't going to stop them. They'll use it to rape you on," Severus said coldly.
He watched as Hermione climbed down from the bed. His black eyes swept over the filthy room. He pulled out his wand.
"Scourgify," the Potions Master said, cleaning the loo and the sink. He also cleaned the sheets and mattress, then put his wand away.
"You're safe for now," he said to the witch who used to be his wife. "I can't tell you for how long. You'd better use that brain of yours to come up with a way to be useful to the Dark Lord that doesn't involve a variety of cocks, or you're going to be on your back quite a bit. I will inform Albus you are here."
Severus turned and opened the door to leave.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked rather desperately. She didn't want to stay here.
"Back to Hogwarts. I have to heal myself and get to bed. I have classes in the morning," he replied.
"But what about me?" Hermione asked him.
Severus looked at her.
"What about you? You're not my problem anymore, Hermione. I've already gotten my nose broken over you for no good reason. What else do you expect from me?" he asked her.
No good reason? She was about to be beaten, raped and killed by deatheaters. Wasn't that worth fighting for? Then she realized for Severus, it really wasn't. She wasn't his anymore.
Severus began to leave.
"Wait!" Hermione said.
Looking exasperated, Severus turned by to her. His nose was killing him. He wanted to get out of here.
"Why did you fight for me, Severus?" Hermione asked him.
The Potions Master looked at her for a long moment. An image of them making love when they were happy together popped into his head for an instant. He pushed it away.
"Temporary insanity," Severus replied coldly, exiting the room, closing the door and warding it behind him.
A/N: Chapter three. Wow. Severus kicked ass. Percy's a little bitch in more ways than one. Is Severus really through with Hermione? And that witch better come up with an idea of how to pull her weight while with the Dark Lord. Fast. Please review.
PLEASE REVIEW "YOU PROMISED" >>> NEXT CHAPTER
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